


Tremulous Relations

by Daecus



Series: New Age [6]
Category: Transformers: Prime
Genre: Gen, New Age
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-22
Updated: 2014-06-22
Packaged: 2018-02-09 06:53:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1973124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daecus/pseuds/Daecus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I guess after this chapter, Smokescreen begins to respect Jet more. I'm so sorry that I haven't been in touch with this series. I've probably lost all the followers... :P<br/>3/8</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tremulous Relations

        Ratchet peered at a computer screen displaying molecular structures, which possessed multiple gaps in protein scaffolding and incorrect amino acid sequencing, errors which he'd have to correct in order to render the Synth-N, or synthetic energon, functional. However, he could not enjoy the luxury of knowing what the final product looked like. He sighed at his inability to find the missing pieces of the formula, which would greatly aid them in the long run. Everyone else had powered down in their assigned hangar bays for the night. Very little punctuated the quiet, clammy Nevada night, save for the tiny creatures even smaller than humans that Raf had called "crickets." Ratchet had no other description of the sound other than beeping intermittent chirps.

        Ratchet suddenly felt the weight of someone's gaze upon him. He turned and transformed his hands into short blades, but he immediately relaxed when he beheld Jetstream's unperturbed, silvery outline detailed by the moonlight.

        Ratchet reprimanded "I would advise you not to do that. You're lucky it was just me. Had Ultra Magnus been in my place, you would've been down in seconds."

        Diverting the subject, Jetstream asked, "How busy are you, sir?"

        "Quite busy," Ratchet answered antisocially. "Synth-N doesn't construct itself in a day, you know." The old medic presumed Jetstream would admonish him as Ultra Magnus had for his slow, if not stagnant, progress, but he was mistaken.

        "Very well," Jetstream acknowledged and simply turned to exit the hangar before Ratchet spoke up.

        "I doubt you just came to give me a scare and then ask if I was busy." Jetstream stopped in his tracks and turned back around.

        "You said you were-" Jetstream made an air quote gesture. "-‘quite busy.ʼ "

        "Yes, but now you've made me curious."

        Ratchet tensed in the split second in which Jetstream reached into a subspace compartment. He had warmed a little to the new addition to the team, but not enough to trust him, given his background. Jetstream pulled out a datapad showing various readings, and Ratchet settled down. "I've analyzed the scans on the human reactor that the Decepticons were after, and I noticed that it contained high concentrations of dementium."

        "But with large quantities of that, Megatron could control any autonomous cybernetic being. What would the humans be doing with something like that?"

        "The reactor was an experimental one. The humans may have simply stumbled upon dementium by accident. It's a fine fuel alternative at first, but what they didn't anticipate is that the substance corrodes its container after a period of time. The reactor facility would have been decommissioned before long, had the 'Cons not removed it first."

        "Why would Megatron want something like that when he could just use his dark energon to control... whatever he wants to? And who does he want to control?"

        Jetstream tapped at a few other buttons on his datapad. Ratchet waited impatiently for Jet's answer as he peered at the distorted, bright blue reflections on Jetstream's visor. If only he could hear Jetstream's thoughts...

        Jetstream's head tilted upwards to look at Ratchet after he had found the statistic he had been looking for. "Dark energon on this planet has an abundance of about one out of five hundred thousand energon veins. Dementium: an abundance of approximately one out of one hundred thousand veins. As for plausible test subjects, I can only make base assumptions, since I have not been on Earth long. The only two obvious ones would be the worst-case scenario, us—"

        Ratchet waved the possibility away. "No. While dark energon takes only a second to invade internal systems, dementium has a slow reaction rate. Were that the case, I would have seen the side-effects and purged everyone's systems before anything critical happened."

        "—Or any possible threats to Megatron's command, like a tide of insurrectional forces, which I doubt, given the severe torture and punishments for Defecticons."

        "But that doesn't apply if Megatron can't stop them. I think... he's planning on controlling the Predacons," Ratchet guessed. "It makes sense. Predaking was powerful enough to thwart Ultra Magnus and Wheeljack. An entire army of Predacons could decimate Decepticon numbers if not kept under control."

        Jetstream nodded in accord. "All stocks of dementium the humans have gathered must be destroyed, then. I'll take care of the dementium still left in mines."

        "And how are you going to do that?" Ratchet questioned.

        "You'll see, sir," came the answer as Jet turned to walk away.

        "For the record, don't call me ‘sir.ʼ "

        Jetstream said, "Understood, Doctor," before walking out of Ratchet's hanger bay.

        "Jetstream," came the last call, and, once again, Jetstream faced the Autobot medic. "What made you join the Decepticons? What made you leave?" Immediately, Ratchet mentally kicked himself for the foolishness of his questions, the invasiveness of such demands. Such questions suggested a familiarity far from the relations between him and the Defecticon.

        Jetstream answered with silence before leaping into the air, transforming into his Avian mode, and flying off without an answer, an unsurprising response. Ratchet sighed before resuming his work, distracting himself from his work by silently chastising himself for his own brazenness.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

        A coldness chilled Smokescreen to the core as he gazed about wordlessly. It was nighttime, but Smokescreen could not spot any stars, nor any moons in the dark void he would have called a sky in any other circumstance. In each direction lay a flat terrain of endless thick, white ice sheets. Smokescreen rubbed his seros together with little luck for warmth. The biting wind felt colder and more painful than any wind he'd known, like a despairing feeling had seeped into the chinks of his metal, curling tiny fingers and constricting his circuitry.

        Where was he? Was he dreaming? As Smokescreen lowered his gaze to the ground, Smokescreen absent-mindedly watched flurries of icy mist wriggle past his treads, like ghostly wires moving, slithering parallel to each other towards a common goal. He followed the wires' movements, something mesmerizing compelling him to track their migration across the rugged ice.

        So, he walked. He could have transformed, but the melancholy chill kept his transformation cog still. He felt light, ethereal, though still stiff from the unshakeable cold. Was he dead? Countless scores of the cloud-like wires slithered past his treads, unable to stop or think about anything else but their singular direction.

        Finally, Smokescreen arrived at a giant ice rampart, which seemed to extend infinitely in every direction. Smokescreen gazed upwards but could hardly distinguish the wall's zenith. When Smokescreen looked back to the center of the bastion, he thought he saw a bluish white light inside. He held his face closer to the rampart's icy shell, but couldn't see any clearer. He then leaned his audio receptor against the rampart's surface and heard the faint, unmistakable beating of a spark.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

        "Wakey, wakey!" chimed Wheeljack. The white Lancia New Stratos shook the rookie awake from recharge.

        "Huh?" Smokescreen sat up with a start. He looked around as his fellow roommates, or barracks-mates, went about their morning routines.

        {What's the matter?} Bumblebee inquired.

        "Ah, nothing. Just a weird dream."

        "Well, get moving. Optimus is expecting us in twenty," Bulkhead urged. Bumblebee, Wheeljack, Smokescreen, and Bulkhead, who all shared a hangar bustled about, quickly sipping their daily ration of energon, now increased due to Jet's sudden contribution, before finally reporting in at the Autobots' main barracks of operations.

        Everyone seemed to be performing business as usual: Ratchet worked on the Synth-N, Ultra Magnus began assigning duties for the day, Wheeljack listened to the commander with indifference, Bulkhead stood by awkwardly, Arcee and Bumblebee prepped for morning patrol, and Optimus observed from afar.

        _Wait a second._ Smokescreen counted the number of Cybertronians once more, making sure to include himself before he asked the big question, "Where's Jetstream?" Everyone looked about in much the same manner as he had, realizing the same thing.

        {Yeah, I haven't seen him around, at all. Normally, he's sulking in a dark corner, or something,} Bumblebee jested. Arcee smirked.

        "This would be the second time he's unaccounted for," Ultra Magnus grumbled.

        "Second time who's unaccounted for?" Agent Fowler asked as he entered.

        "Jetstream. He's always up to no good. When he's here, he just watches everyone, as if waiting for something. When he's absent, which he shouldn't be in the first place, we know nothing of his whereabouts," Ultra Magnus griped.

        Ratchet spoke without looking up from his work. "He visited me last night concerning the contents of the generator which you kept from the Predacons. What's interesting is that he scanned it and found dementium."

        "What? What's that?" Agent Fowler asked.

        "Dementium is an addictive substance that, when implemented in Cybertronian physiology, can be used as a form of control over whoever gets addicted to it. Those that are exposed long-term will follow whoever has the most readily available supply of it."

        "I didn't know that robots could get addicted," Agent Fowler said with surprise.

        "Yes. In fact, there were quite a few cases of substance abuse that I had to deal with back on Cybertron. Dementium was a common medium of control over subjects for drug lords or leaders of crime syndicates."

        "Yeah, and I heard that the pre-war Cybertronian High Council used it to quell the Decepticons when they first formed. It's some nasty stuff," Bulkhead added.

        "And what does this have to do with Jetstream?" Fowler pressed.

        "Jetstream was the one who found the correlation. Had he not scanned your generator, we would have all been put in great danger. He suggested that you see to the decommissioning of all generators of the same kind as the one we found yesterday."

        "Why isn't he present to tell me this himself?" Fowler questioned. He disliked the fact that the team's latest ex-'Con, who should have been under the most suspicion, had decided to disappear without any supervision.

        "He said he was going to take care of the other sources of dementium left on this planet, but he didn't tell me how. I suppose that's my fault. I started prying and questioned him over personal matters."

        "Really? What did he say?" asked Smokescreen, intrigued.

        "Nothing. He just took off, as if literally dodging the question," Ratchet answered.

        "Well, I couldn't care less if you drove him away with a giant broomstick. I don't trust the guy. He should be under surveillance 24/7. I'm surprised y'all just let him go wherever he pleases. What if he's plotting our demise right now with the 'Cons?" Fowler asked with reasonable concern.

        Ultra Magnus stepped in somewhat angrily. "We are keeping him on a leash. We have trackers and audio recorders slipped into the gaps of his armor he probably doesn't even realize he has. The situation is under control." _But_ he's _not under control,_ came Magnus's final thought as he finished his argument. He would have never said so in front of the others, but he hated how Optimus Prime had refrained from giving him an even shorter leash. For some reason, Optimus saw good where only Magnus could only see potential harm. Much to Magnus's chagrin, he had to follow Prime's word, no matter how much he distrusted that Defecticon scum.

        Ratchet pulled Magnus out of his inner grouching when the doctor reasoned, "So far, he's done nothing but good so far. Plus, Jetstream technically has no reason to betray us, since there are, quote, ‘severe torture and punishments for Defecticons.ʼ "

        Suddenly, the Autobots heard the _chu-chu-chu-chu-tsche_ of a transformation sequence and the release of thrusters as Jetstream landed lightly on the tarmac.

        "Speak of the devil and he shall appear," Wheeljack mumbled.

        Ultra Magnus marched straight towards the flyer. "Where have you been? You were supposed to report to me at 0600, which was an hour ago, and I don't remember giving you permission to leave the base unattended."

        Jetstream saluted, unfazed by Magnus's irritation. "My apologies, sir. Something imperative required my immediate attention. Everyone except Ratchet had powered down, so I flew solo on this objective," he replied, hiding weariness from his voice.

        "And what objective was that?" Magnus prodded.

        "To graph underlying patterns regarding veins of dementium on Earth and cross-referencing that with existing Decepticon mines, sir."

        "You are not allowed outside a three mile radius of this base without accompaniment unless given permission to do so. Is that clear?"

        "Aye, sir!" Jetstream responded.

        "Dismissed," Magnus growled. Immediately, Jetstream quietly trotted to Ratchet.

        "What did you find?" the doctor asked, straight to the point.

        "The majority of dementium is located along one particular spot in the West Atlantic Ocean. Luckily, dementium does not have as large a blast radius as energon, so we can destroy the veins without harming nearby life. However, note that time will pose a problem, as the dementium field occupies a total area of approximately twenty square kilometers, and the Decepticons will not take long to realize our intention and mobilize forces to halt or at least slow our progress."

        "Jetstream, where did you say this stuff was?" Agent Fowler asked. Jetstream pulled out his datapad and showed Fowler a map with clustered orange dots.

        "By Davy Jones! That's in the Bermuda Triangle, the site of all kinds of aerial and naval casualties!" Fowler exclaimed.

        "Large concentrations of dementium _are_ known to cause mechanical equipment to go awry. That may be the explanation for the absence of any Decepticon excavation teams, though I am not experimentally familiar with the exact effects of said concentrations on Cybertronian biology upon sudden proximity."

        "You didn't go there?" Arcee asked.

        "No. The readings are easy enough to comprehend from a distance."

        "Then why were you gone so long?" Ultra Magnus demanded.

        "An accurate scan requires high altitudes, so I had to fly a significant distance to achieve a comprehensive and thorough reading," Jetstream answered. "Anyways, despite possible technical repercussions, Megatron _will_ send miners if he gets desperate enough. The possible consequences of inaction would be too cataclysmic to ignore in the time being, as Ratchet hypothesizes that Megatron could be interested in using it to control the Predacons."

       The Autobot medic informed their leader, "The dementium will be expansive, so it would be best if Jetstream took us to the center of the dementium fields and split our forces in four directions there to prevent collateral damage."

        Optimus Prime leaned against the wall, mulling over the predicament. This posed a difficult obstacle, indeed. Expunging the dementium would take a while, not to mention the possible backlash on his team from long-term exposure. Optimus decided to take his most trustworthy teammates in order to keep an eye on the ex-'Con. He spoke, "Jetstream is correct; this situation cannot be overlooked. Should such a means for control fall into Megatron's hands, we would face limitless danger. Ratchet, you must accompany Jetstream, Bumblebee, Bulkhead, Smokescreen, and me in order to assess the situation. The rest of you stay here and await our return."

        Jetstream glanced in Ultra Magnus's direction, half-expecting him to include himself in the group, but Optimus must have thought the same thing, for he addressed his second-in-command. "Ultra Magnus, stay here and man the ground bridge." Unhappily, or more so than usual, as Jetstream had never seen the commander so much as smile, Magnus saluted and assumed his position behind the ground bridge controls.

        "Jetstream, give me the coordinates," Ultra Magnus commanded, hiding his disappointment poorly. Jet handed the commander his datapad, but Magnus grabbed his wrist while he took the screen from Jet's servo. Jet attempted to subtly retract his hand from Magnus's grip to no avail; the truck held him in place firmly. He only whispered the word, "Remember," before releasing his grip to type the coordinates. Jet only bowed his head upon receiving his datapad back.

        "Thank you," he said politely, which surprised everyone, including Magnus, as Jet flipped to a different tab on his datapad unfazed and hustled to Optimus's group. He tried to draw as little attention as possible as he risked touching the wrist that Magnus had grabbed, rubbing the scarred metal and hoping the commander had not felt the wound inflicted ages ago.

        Though a pat on the back here or a handshake there probably passed as normal for the Autobots, Jet opposed any type of physical contact, which he felt as a encroachment on his privacy and personal space, history better left untouched. "Ready, sir," he said quietly. Any omniscient viewer would have found it amusing that mere contact upset Jet more than threats.

        Optimus gave his commands, "Jetstream, lead the way. Autobots, roll out."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

        Jetstream felt an exhilarating tempest in the air his wings sliced through as he flew out of the ground bridge and into the balmy atmosphere. He climbed to a higher altitude but maintained visuals on the ground team that he led, checking his datapad's scanner periodically.

        As Jet matched the ground team's speed, he notified them, "ETA five minutes, sirs."

        {What would you have said if Arcee were with us?} Bumblebee jokingly mused. Jetstream only replied with silence.

        "Guess he's not much of a conversationalist," Bulkhead guessed, turning off his comm so supposedly only the ground team could hear. Unfortunately for Bulkhead, Jet could still perceive their discussion due to his sensitive antennae, despite being high up.

        {Then what was up with the long-winded speech when we first met him?}

            "Jetstream, how much longer until we reach the dementium field?" Ratchet interrupted, annoyed with the younglings' petty conversation.

        "T-minus twenty seconds."

        Smokescreen butt in, "What's so special about this particular site, again?"

        "This location contains the most concentrated and vastly significant portion of dementium on Earth," Jet replied. "It actually surprised me that here, 90% of all Earth's dementium had flourished. I know that the spread of dementium requires _quite_ specific conditions, but— Oh, we've arrived."

        Jetstream decelerated and landed lightly on the coarse sand as the ground team skidded ungracefully to a halt. Optimus gave his orders, "Smokescreen and Bumblebee shall take the east. Bulkhead, take the south. Ratchet and I will take the north. Jetstream shall cover the west. Should any of you complete your task early, meet with whoever is the most behind and assist."

        "Autobots, move out!" Optimus ordered.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

        All six of them transformed into their Alt Modes and split in their assigned directions. After traveling a distance away from the center, Ratchet asked his long-time friend, "Why didn't you assign me with Bulkhead? I should be accompanying him so he doesn't do anything wrong by accident, and he can shoot well enough."

        As the two neared the closest spires of dark green, luminescent crystals, Optimus and Ratchet transformed back into their Mech Modes. The elder replied, "I wanted to speak to you concerning our new recruit. What can you make of his motives?"

        "As far as I can tell, he just wants to survive. He doesn't especially like being with us, but he has no other choice. As long as our goals concur with his, he'll help where he can. He doesn't know us, though. He'll probably turn his back on us the minute he sees that it will benefit him," Ratchet concluded.

        "Did your examinations reveal anything we should know?"

        In other words, what did Jet have to hide? Ratchet knew his superior well enough to see the need for this secretive conversation in the guise of a mission. Prime not only succeeded at being cautious but also in cleverness, not to Megatron's extent, however. "He tried to keep some things under the hood. I almost didn't even notice the attention deflectors. I found out that he's actually a heat seeker, but that only helps us in planning tactics, disregarding trust issues. The physical examinations revealed long-term physical abuse, malnutrition from sparkling to adolescent stage, scarred metal, and stunted shell development. Wherever he came from, it couldn't have been a nice place." Prime gave Ratchet a sorrowful look and nodded. The medic decided to change the subject. "Assuming you already know not to spread the word about this, you should get to work immediately. I don't know what long-term exposure to dementium crystal does, and I don't care to find out."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

        "Hey, Bumblebee! Check this out!" Smokescreen yelled at his comrade, who also sped along the sandy ground in Vehicle Mode. Smokescreen launched himself upwards, his wheels spinning as he waited until reaching maximum height, letting the small moment of weightlessness engulf him before transforming into Mech Mode. The rookie used the recoil from his guns to propel himself into a forward flip, aiming at dementium crystals with each shot until he finally landed, spraying sand in every direction. "Did all my shots hit?" Smokescreen turned to his only spectator in anticipation.

        {All but one. Better luck next time, Smokescreen,} Bumblebee teased. {My turn.}

        "Hah! At this rate, we'll be the first to get done!" Smokescreen's chest swelled with pride. He tended to count his chickens before they hatched, Miko had once observed.

        {As much as I hate to admit it, Jetstream does have the advantage of flight, and all. Regardless, I hope he loses.} Bumblebee bleeped with a measure of contempt.

        "Do I sense a hint bitterness, Bumblebee?" Smokescreen questioned. They hardly knew enough about Jet to despise him.

            {That arrogant 'Con thinks he's so much better than everyone else, he doesn't even talk to us!}

            "Well sure he talks to us! About the important things, at least..." The Lotus Exige scratched the back of his helm thoughtfully. Smokescreen decided to change the topic. "Well, whether you're right or not, we'd better get moving or-"

        A set of laser beams collided with dementium nearby, cutting Smokescreen off with a raucous explosion. Immediately, the two Autobots activated their weapons, aiming at their attackers from the sky.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

        _BKOOM!_

        A rush of air cut past Jetstream in a whirl of the sonic boom he left behind. All the while, Jet blazed a salvo of heat lasers down on his path in a zigzag motion and leaving behind a trail of exploding dementium.

        Jet came to a smooth glide, looping upwards before transforming and landing to view his handiwork. _That should take care of it,_ he thought contentedly. This job felt like nothing but a walk in the park; no, that would be too hard. More like a flight through the jet streams. As he strolled along the edge of the demolished dementium field, he hoped a time would come when he could dash through this planet's high-speed winds. Jet chanced a smile; he hadn't been named "Jetstream" for nothing.

        Abruptly, Jet snapped his head up in alarm. He shifted the antennae on his audial receptors, honing in on the residuals of a broken signal. Finally, he reached the frequency he had heard, almost like a minute prick of static that anyone else would have missed.

        "This is—Smokescreen—I'm—!" An urgent voice hit Jet's audials in intermittent flashes. Without hesitation, Jet took flight in Avian Mode. As his optics scanned the area for Cybertronian forms, he had to dip suddenly to dodge the plasma shots that arced towards him from the ground. A moment later, Jet caught Bulkhead's blurred figure shooting up at him. _Bulkhead?_ He must have flown in the wrong direction.

        "Hey! It's me, Jetstream!" he shouted into the comm, but the shots kept coming with new ones starting from behind him. Jet groaned as he shifted his focus on the assailants on his six: Decepticons this time. Jet flew upwards, performing half of a barrel roll and slowing his forward acceleration until he reached an adequate height. He transformed into Mech Mode and let gravity do the work as he free-fell. Luckily, the Decepticons had not enough time to react as he plummeted, raining heat lasers and using the thrusters on his peds to help him spiral downwards and terminate his opponents efficiently.

        Thankfully, the Bulkhead took a hint and actually started firing at the Decepticons that remained, cleaning up the job. As Jet neared the ground, he flipped forward and activated his thrusters downwards to decelerate as he landed.

        Bulkhead scratched the back of his helm apologetically. "Sorry, Jetstream. I thought you were another one of them. You should have commed me."

        "I did, sir, but the dementium must have been interfering with our communication arrays. I suppose you can radio Commander Magnus once you reach the end of the field. It is only a kilometer or two from here. Are you able to the rest of the work?"

        "You're not staying?"

        "I picked up pieces of a transmission from the east team's end. It seemed urgent. If you do not require further assistance, I shall head there."

        "Wait, why didn't you go there first?"

        "I meant to, but I think the dementium must be messing with my magnetism sensor, an intriguing phenomenon, really. I wouldn't think it could affect one flying at such a high altitude; I wonder what the effects would be for a ground-bound Cybertronian. Perhaps I should go with you until you reach the very edge of the field..."

        "Uh, no thanks. I'm good. Go ahead."

        "Aye, sir," Jetstream affirmed before they both transformed back into their Alt Modes and sped off in opposite directions.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

        "This is Smokescreen! Does anyone read me? Optimus? Ratchet? Ultra Magnus? Ugh!" Smokescreen groaned as he abandoned calling for back-up. "Looks like we're on our own, Bee," he told the scout as more Eradicons started surrounding them, both in the air and on land.

        {I can't see any way out. All of the cover available to us will just explode in our faces. I—I don't know what to do,} Bumblebee admitted with resignation.

        Suddenly, a deafening roar rumbled through the air as an object hurtled straight through one of the airborne Eradicons and crashed into another. As the object hit the second Eradicon, Smokescreen recognized the form. "That's Jetstream!" he exclaimed. As if on cue, all of the Vehicons surrounding the two Autobots looked idiotically at the sky, giving the Autobots a chance to fight back. As Bumblebee and Smokescreen belted opponents left and right, airborne Eradicons fell one by one.

        After Jet had made sure to clear the skies, he settled onto the ground near the two Autobots. "My apologies for tardiness, sirs," he said, bowing his head minutely.

        {Where were you? Smokescreen's been trying to contact anyone within range for forever!}

        "Assisting Bulkhead. Dementium interferes with communication arrays, apparently."

        "Ah, well thanks for the assist..." Smokescreen said, not knowing what else to say. Jet merely nodded, not helping with the ensuing awkward silence. To make matters worse, the giant jet simply stood there in front of the two Autobots, as if waiting for them to do something. "What?" Smokescreen asked rudely, incapable of summoning any higher form of charisma.

        Before he gave an answer, Jet snapped his head to the left, antennae spreading apart, their owner listening intently for whatever had drawn his attention. "Seven flyers approaching in t-minus twenty seconds. I suggest spreading out, in case any of them bypass me," Jet told them before leaping into the air and transforming back into a stealth jet. The two grounded Autobots covered their audials as a thundering sonic boom screeched through the air.

        {Fragging show-off,} Bumblebee muttered. He and Smokescreen transformed into their Alt Modes and rolled out in differing directions.

        Meanwhile, Jet zoomed towards the incoming Decepticons, giving them little time to react before he twisted himself into an aileron roll, letting loose two beams of heat. With one flyer down, Jet transformed, slammed into the center of the formation, and breaking it apart like a flying bowling ball. He gripped the debris of a dead Decepticon in his reach, swinging it in a circle before tossing it at the nearest unlucky sparkplug. Jet transformed back into Avian Mode and chased after the three 'Cons he had managed to damage, successfully neutralizing them thirty seconds later.

        Scanning with his radar, he picked out the last three threats, yet he could not place the location of his temporary allies, likely due to dementium interference. Jet successfully downed one while an Autobot shot down another. That was the last of them, right? He couldn't remember for some reason, but a perfunctory check of his scanners showed an all-clear. He circled around the general vicinity of where he presumed the Autobots could have been before they fired in his direction _again_.

        _They must_ really _hate me_ , Jet supposed with a choleric feeling. He dodged the shots, which were aimed more poorly than he thought feasible, and landed after transforming into Mech Mode in a safe place, albeit near his "allies." He waited behind a large unexploded crystal, listening for the hurried footsteps that came closer. As soon as Jet caught sight of the offending Autobot's weapon, he quickly pushed the weapon upwards to prevent further friendly fire.

        "Oh, um," Smokescreen sputtered. "I thought that was one of _them_. I'm sorry. I really did, honest," Smokescreen continued under the accusing stare behind Jet's pitch-black visor. Even though Smokescreen couldn't see Jet's face, Jet's tense stance told him enough.

        A thought suddenly popped into Jetstream's brain module, giving him an idea as he examined the smaller Autobot. He asked the Lotus Exige, "Sir, approximately how far do you estimate _that_ dementium crystal is from us?" leaning down at Smokescreen's optic-level and pointing at said crystal a few Cybertronian paces away.

        "Uh... like, half a kilometer?" the puzzled speedster guessed, Jet's heat upon proximity causing his faceplates to flush a faded dark blue.

        "...It's... a hundred meters, sir..." Jetstream looked at Smokescreen closely, long enough to make the Sportsbot even more uncomfortable. Smokescreen hoped Jet couldn't hear the throbbing of his spark, which resounded in his audials. Smokescreen assumed he hadn't, for Jet continued, "The dementium is beginning to affect you adversely. I'll fly you out of the field and call for Ratchet. We need to find Bumblebee first, though." As Jet spoke, he heard the unmistakable zoom of an aircraft. Jet automatically turned around to face the sound and blasted the interruption out of the sky.

        He had missed one, Jet realized. Normally, he would never have, but this damn dementium... Oh, what if that had been Optimus? He hadn't even double-checked...

        Unable to question the technique he had employed further, Smokescreen shook him out of his introspective daze and pointed to what turned out to be Decepticon debris flying their way. Jet could see no cover, other than the explosive dementium, which he saw fit to get as far away from as possible. Instinctively, Jetstream grabbed his acquaintance's servo and curled his body over the smaller mech, shielding him from the raining debris and blasts of dementium that imploded from the chunks of metal crashing into them.

        "Don't ventilate!" Jet yelled before a wave of sickly green dust washed over him and Smokescreen. The small speedster felt his breath hitch with the flyer's warmth enveloping him suddenly. He could feel the strong fuel pump thud through the navy stealth fighter's chassis. Smokescreen was unsure of whether his own fuel pump's irregular beating came as a result of the dementium or... something else.

        Even after the dark green poisonous dust settled, Jet still stood motionless. Awkwardly, Smokescreen patted the flyer's pauldron as an "okay," signaling the ex-'Con to straighten and mercifully back away. Jet scanned the remainder of his surroundings, not picking up any more activity. He turned to Smokescreen. "I should fly you up."

        It took Smokescreen a moment of awkward silence to realize that it had been a request. He managed to stutter an affirmative, yet Jet still remained in place. "May I, sir?" he asked ambiguously. Unsure of what Jet planned to do, Smokescreen nodded. The large mech stepped behind him and slid his arms under Smokescreen's before clasping them across his chest. Jet activated his thrusters and lifted the both of them off the ground.

        Smokescreen gasped at the unfamiliar sight of the receding ground. Unlike Jetstream, Smokescreen had not grown accustomed to the sights above ground. Jet seemed not to notice Smokescreen's reaction, nor the spectacle at all as he attempted to comm Bumblebee. "Sir, this is Jetstream and Smokescreen. We have cleared the field and will ask Commander Magnus for a ground bridge. Do you require assistance?"

        {No, I'm out. Ultra Magnus got to me. Carry on with whatever you were doing,} Bumblebee said dismissively. Jet ignored the tone and flew Smokescreen out of the dementium field's vicinity, calling for a ground bridge before leaving to finish the job. He vaguely registered Smokescreen's thanks, departing with barely a nod to merely finish business.

        After he had taken care of the remaining crystals, he detected the scream of air as an aircraft neared him. He turned to wield his weapons on the infamous Decepticon, Starscream, who transformed into his Mech Mode as he landed. The seeker lifted his servos in the air, indicating nonaggression... for the moment.

        "Easy... whoever you are. I couldn't help but notice the Decepticon symbol still on your shoulder, yet you work for Autobots." Jetstream feigned interest, yet still kept his weapons trained on the seeker, listening for what he had to say. "If you want to redeem yourself, the Decepticons can forgive you for your mistakes if you return to our ranks."

        Jetstream considered a harsh retort, but thought better of it and replied with, "Interesting proposition. What are the potential benefits? What is your ulterior motive?"

        "You don't have to worry at all about energon shortages, nor about Decepticons incessantly chasing after you for your wrongdoings. As for our motives, a chance to double-cross the Autobots is too good to pass up. You know the motto: you are being deceived." Suddenly, Starscream realized the alternative interpretation of his last statement and immediately tried to cover it up. "I mean, to deceive the Autobots, not you, of course. Anyways, I'd take up this offer if I were you; the Decepticons obviously outnumber the Autobots, so we'd surely win, especially with a mech like you on board."

        Jetstream only replied, "I'll think about it."

        "May I know your name, by any chance?" the seeker asked. Jet only answered by transforming and flying out to destroy the remaining dementium. "Hmph. Rude." Starscream pursed his lips before transforming and heading into a ground bridge back to the Nemesis.


End file.
